The Angel And The War
by YumiLoveNeko
Summary: When Alfred is convinced to join the military, he expected his lover to be happy. He wanted to be viewed as a hero, he wanted to be viewed as a savior. But, when things don't go as planned, how will Arthur learn to cope with the fact Alfred left him? [Rating may go up in the future] [UsUk] [Various Side-Pairings as well]
1. Chapter 1

Arthur let out a loud sob as he watched his lover stomp his foot and shake his head.

"I don't care what you think! I'm doing it whether you want to or not!"

Arthur shook his head, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared up at the male before him.

"I don't want you to leave me, Al..." he whispered, sniffling. "P-Please..." he begged.

"If you really loved me you'd let me go." Alfred muttered, gripping the door handle and storming out of the house, slamming the door shut as he ran.

Arthur's eyes widened and he rushed to the door, struggling to get the door open. He wasn't fast enough. Alfred was gone.

Alfred left.

He left him.

The argument that led to his absence was when he informed Arthur he enlisted into the military.

And was excepted in.

and was to be deployed as soon as possible.

Arthur screamed and cried when he was told, begging Alfred to stay. Begging him to forget about the military and stay with him. Not to leave him...

It seemed selfish to Arthur now as he thought about it.

In his eyes, he was a hopeless boy just wanting the love of his life to stay with him. He didn't want Alfred to risk his life out there. He could die! He could loose his hero forever...

But, that's what he wanted to be.

Alfred wanted to be a hero. He wanted to protect his country and citizens. And, that's how he thought he could be one. He could be a hero if he fought and battled in war.

If he won.

Arthur thought he did win though.

In Arthur's eyes, he won his heart.

And that's what Alfred needed.

Alfred's first intention was to tell him and cuddle all day, try and save the tears for later. He was going to take him out to dinner...

And then ask a Arthur for his hand in marriage.

but it didn't happen like that.

Alfred was now down the road, his army bag slung around his shoulder as he made his way to call a taxi over and take him to the airport.

He had begged the military to let him stay for a few more weeks, so he could propose...

They wouldn't mind it if he showed up early, would they?

He was too pissed at Arthur to even care right now.

Arthur fell to his knees as he cried his eyes out. His hair was tousled and messy, and his eyes were red and puffy. He clenched his fists tightly as he cried more.

He lost Alfred.

He lost his love.

His T-shirt laid uneven on his shoulders, and he only had his boxer on under that. He hadn't changed out of his pajamas since he got up.

He held his stomach, feeling almost as if he was going to throw up from crying too much.

Alfred thought he heard Arthur cry as his words echoed through his mind.

**"...If you really love me you wouldn't leave me.."**

He let his mind wander to Arthur as he walked.

The things he thought of were negative.

He felt the faint dribble of a soft rain pat down onto his cheeks and hair, but he didn't pay any mind to it. He made his way to the corner of the street. The rain was increasing drastically.

He waved his hand over to a taxi, calling it over. His tears were mixed in with the heavy rain, hiding his sorrow from the people he passed. He probably looked ridiculous outside without an umbrella. He got to the taxi, telling him to take him to the airport as he stared out the window with a scowl on his face.

Arthur needs to know I'm not a child. I have my rights.

I can do what I want.

I can fight for my country and rights.

And he can't stop me.

He thought Arthur would've been proud of him that he was going to enlist.

Proud that he had a brave hero looking over to him.

**"But brave heroes aren't good to me when they're dead."**

Arthur thought as he picked himself up off the floor, stumbling before standing up right. He wiped his eyes sloppily as he let out another sob, closing the door the rest of the way before collapsing onto the couch in another fit of sobs.

He hugged his knees and kept them close to his chest as he thought about Alfred.

He's not going to come back to me.

Ever.

I mean, who would want someone as stupid, and clinging as me?

I was trying to push him away from his passion.

But, shouldn't his passion be me?

Doesn't he love me?

He can't be my hero if he's not with me.

Not if he's not here.

I can't hold him again.

I won't be able to hear his angelic laugh.

Or look into his heavenly blue eyes again.

He doesn't love me.

But I still love him.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a few days since Alfred had left. And Arthur was sure that he wouldn't come back.

He didn't know that Alfred went to the military when he left, he just suspected that he left and found an apartment to stay in, and was cooling down. He thought Alfred would come back that night and apologize, and he would apologize back. They'd make up and go back to their normal lives, forgetting about their dispute and tears.

Alfred would wrap his arms around him and they'd stay close to each other as they watched a movie, or ate. Maybe even slept.

But that didn't happen.

It's been two days and Alfred isn't home.

Arthur would wake up in the morning, only to see an empty bed. There was no arms wrapped his waist. There wasn't a protective chest he could lean on when he woke up.

There wasn't another man with him.

It was just him.

Sometimes Alfred would get up early and cook Arthur breakfast. But, when he woke up, there wasn't any food on the counter. There wasn't anyone in the kitchen. The table wasn't made.

Arthur would wake up in the morning and just stare at the empty side of the bed, feeling the tears come every time he looked. He blinked a few times, in hope it was just a dream.

Maybe Alfred isn't gone... Maybe he's in the kitchen... Or he fell asleep on the couch and just didn't come back...

Arthur gave up on raising his hopes. False hopes would only make it worse. He would slowly come to more and more realization of his loss ever hour.

It was almost a daily routine now.

Wake up, stare at the bed and cry.

Get up, get dressed and cry.

Go into the kitchen, get something to eat and cry.

Sit down, stare at the empty seat before him and just cry.

Arthur was soon to be the new English teacher at the new high school. He majored in it, but had only just gotten out of being an assistant teacher. He was going to start up with his own classroom around the middle of winter. He attended meetings and such with the other teachers, but at the moment, he didn't have any income beside's Alfred's paycheck.. Alfred had a high-paying job, his meetings only once or twice a week, and had to go through business trips quite often. His position was inherited from his father, who owned the company..

Together, they were quite wealthy.

Now, Arthur had to pay for himself. There wasn't another mouth to feed. He didn't need to set up dates for them. Hell, Arthur probably wouldn't eat anything if it wasn't for Alfred insisting on him eating.

But now, Alfred has no say.

Alfred left.

Arthur wiped away his tears again as he tried to read. He let his mind wander too far, and began crying without even realizing it. He sniffled and closed the book, deciding that was enough for now. Besides, he wouldn't be able to focus on it anyways.

Who could?

Arthur stood up and walked into the kitchen, lazily opening the refrigerator door.

Either he could take out his depression on eating, or take it out by not eating.

Either way worked for him.

He wouldn't be doing it on purpose anyways.

He looked through the shelves, before remembering something.

There was a bottle of Scotch in the cabinet.

Arthur closed the refrigerator door and walked over to it, pulling the bottle out.

He use to always drink his troubles away.

That was, before he met Alfred.

He turned his life around.

Arthur would drink constantly, stay sheltered from others, and constantly argue with Francis.

Alfred but an end to that.

He got him to stop drinking. He got him to open up to others, to smile...

He even got him and the Frenchie's arguments down to a minimum.

He hasn't drank to get drunk in years.

Pfft. Alfred can't stop him now.

He's not here.

Alfred left.

Arthur sniffled once again, opening the bottle and hesitantly pulling out a glass.

He paused for a moment, looking at it as he thought about what he was doing.

Arthur scoffed, setting the glass back down and shaking his head, letting out a shaky breath.

He kept the bottle in his hand, though.

Arthur walked away with the bottle in his hand, and sat back down on the couch.

He wouldn't need a glass.

He'd just drink from the bottle anyways.

* * *

On the other hand, Alfred was worrying.

He had made it to military base already, and was already dressed in his uniform.

He constantly thought about the Briton, beginning to regret his decision.

What if Arthur thinks I don't love him?

What if I die out here?

He'd never know what happened to me...

He'd never know how I felt...

I should have said goodbye.

I should have told him I loved him.

I should have...

I should have stayed!

I needed to stay!

I needed to tell Arthur I loved him!

I needed to say goodbye!

What man am I if I leave him...?

What man am i if I leave this world, knowing my lover hates me?

It's too late.

You're already on campus.

You're already dressed.

You're already training.

It's too late.

It's too late to tell Arthur.

But I still love him.

* * *

**I didn't think I'd be posting two chapters in one day but, eh, who knows?**

**Chapter three's going to be longer. I _promise_. ewe**

**Have a wonderful day/evening.**

**Keep dreaming~**

**-Love**


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur fell into a restless sleep, just like all of the others since Alfred had left him. He had a meeting tomorrow, in town, and he was stressed out to no end. He closed his eyes and hugged the pillow close to his chest. It was Alfred's pillow, and it somewhat calmed him down on those sleepless nights. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down as he turned over. He nuzzled his face into the pillow before finally falling asleep.

Arthur was woken up by a start when his alarm went off. He groaned and pushed himself up off the bed, his arms shaking a tad at the sudden pressure before sitting up. He slammed his hand down onto the alarm and wiped his eyes, already growing use to the feeling of being alone. It had been a week since he had left, and he was so set on being alone.

If Alfred loved him, he'd call.

Right?

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, walking over to the closet and sliding it open. He shuffled through the jackets and shirts, occasionally passing through Alfred's T-shirts and sweatshirts. Arthur had fallen asleep with Alfred's favorite bomber jacket on, for, the American had left it. It brought Arthur comfort to have it around his body. He reluctantly stripped himself of his clothing and the jacket and slipped into some more presentable clothing. A suit. It was to look professional in front of everyone else.

Arthur finished getting dressed and picked up his phone. The cold September air would brush against him, and he'd most likely need a jacket.

He glanced back at the over-sized bomber jacket before picking it up, sliding it over his shoulders. Sure, it wasn't professional, but Arthur simply didn't give a fuck.

He walked out of his room and down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair and grimacing when he walked by the kitchen. Nothing compared to Alfred's cooking. He shook his head and walked passed it, deciding that he wasn't hungry anymore.

He let out a small huff, cursing under his breath as he grabbed his keys and walked outside. He made sure he had everything before he got into his car, Alfred's red pick-up truck still parked in the driveway. He let a soft sigh and got into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel and taking a deep breath. Alfred used to always drive around in that truck when they were teenagers, and they even shared quite a few tender moments in that truck.

He let out a slow breath and started his car, pulling out of the driveway and making his way off to the meeting.

He made it to the buildings and got out of his car, pulling Alfred's coat closer to his small, fragile figure. He walked quickly into the building, the cold air nipping at the sides of his cheeks and the edges of his ears, along with the tip of his nose. He walked quickly into the building and checked his phone.

He looked up when he accidentally bumped into someone. He made a small squeak and took a few steps back, stumbling. He huffed and glared at the ground before looking up.

"Oi! Watch it!" He sighed, immediately recognizing the male he had bumped into.

The man before him raised an eyebrow, looking at the smaller Briton with a small look of amusement.

"Oh! Bonjour Arthur~ Grumpy as always, I see!~" The male chimed, his words laced heavily with his native tongue; French.

Arthur pursed his lips together and scowled at the male before him.

"Go away, Francis." He growled, trying to brush past him.

The male, supposedly Francis, just rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Ah, Arthur~ C'mon! It's been weeks! The least you could do is say 'hello'!"

"Hello, and, goodbye." Arthur simply replied, trying to walk away once again from the dreaded Frenchman.

Francis grabbed him by the shoulder and sighed, but that's when he realized the bomber jacket that adorned his shoulders.

"What's with the jacket, Angeleterre? Isn't that your American's..?" He questioned.

Arthur brushed his hand off his shoulder and scowled at him. "Yeah. It /was/." He murmured, walking off quickly to the meeting room. He knew that Francis would probably question him about it too, for, he worked with him.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he sat down in his seat, his papers already stacked and set up in front of him. He hesitantly took off the jacket and draped it over the side of the chair, sitting up straight and looking at forward.

Over time, the rest of the members had flooded into the room and took their seats. he pursed his lips and glanced around, noticing that the idiotic Frenchie had been staring at him ever since he walked in. He rolled his eyes and focused on the speaker as they started their meeting. Arthur didn't let his gaze waver between anyone, and kept his eyes on the person presenting. People could tell that he wasn't feeling well. He had small bags under his eyes and his hair was disheveled.

He got up once everyone was released from the meeting, lazily standing up and stretching out his stiff limbs from sitting down for too long. He grabbed the coat and slung it around his shoulders. He huffed and made his way out of the building, his head down. Francis had gotten up and walked after the Briton, worried slightly. He had been thinking over what he had said to him, and noticed how on-edge the other seemed to be.

Arthur jumped slightly when his phone went off, sighing and pulling it out of his pocket. He raised an eyebrow at the phone number and answered it.

"Hello?" He murmured, looking to his side.

"Hey Arthur. Alfred hasn't been answering his calls.. And we've got a meeting next week. I'm thinking he might've lost his phone or something? But could you tell him to call me back? It's his turn to present.." The man on the other line questioned, sighing softly.

Arthur sighed and looked down. "A-Ah... I'm sorry Gil.. But Alfred won't be able to come to any meetings.."

The male, Gilbert, raised an eyebrow and moved the phone to his other hand. "What do you mean?"

Arthur let out a shaky breath and shook his head. "Alfred left me. I don't know where he is. ..I-I figured he'd come back or something, call me at least, but he hasn't yet... I-I'm sorry... I-I don't know where he is..." He replied, his voice cracking in the middle of his words. He felt as if he was going to choke up.

Gilbert let out a soft sigh on the other line, shocked slightly by the other's claim. "Oh... I see... Well, Alfred will turn up eventually. He loves you. And you know that. He probably went off and did something stupid. He'll be back. I promise." He tried to reassure. Gilbert was one of Alfred's close co-workers. They attended High school and college together. Gilbert was also one of the very few that knew what Alfred was going to do that night. He just wasn't informed about the military part... He decided it would be best not to ask if Alfred had proposed. It's best not to open up healed wounds.

"I hope so.." Arthur murmured.

If anything, it angered him that Gilbert 'promised' he'd be back.

Promises were things that people couldn't keep.

Gilbert sighed once again and nodded his head. "Well, I guess I'll have to set someone else up to present. Good luck, Arthur. Have a nice day." He murmured.

Arthur nodded his head and sighed. "Yeah. Have a nice day, Gilbert..."

After a few more exchanges, he hung up the phone and groaned. He stuffed the phone into his pocket and hunched over, beginning to walk again before Francis stopped him. He huffed when he felt the hand on his shoulder, turning around and glaring at the Frenchman.

"Bloody hell.. What now?!" He grumbled impatiently. He was tired of all these interruptions. He wanted to go back home, curl up in a ball, and cry. He wanted Alfred. And he knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Francis gave him a pained look and frowned, obviously concerned. "Is it true, Angeleterre?" He asked, not moving his hand.

Arthur frowned and furrowed his brows in confusion. "Is what true?"

"About Alfred..."

Arthur looked down and sighed, nodding his head slightly. "Yeah." He replied, scowling at the ground.

"For how long?" Francis questioned, almost frantically.

Arthur looked down, basically counting on his fingers. The odd silence was almost deafening between the two, except for Arthur's quiet mumbles as he counted.

"Ah.. I think it's been three weeks now. Almost four." He responded, looking up.

Francis let out a shaky breath and wrapped his arms around the Briton. "Oh, Angeleterre! Why didn't you say anything?! I would've helped..." He murmured, holding onto Arthur.

Francis had gone through some hardships in life with love, and, basically enforced any form of it.

"I don't want help.." He murmured, his voice shaky as he reluctantly hugged Francis back. Oh, this was bad.

The two's relationship was more of a 'frenemies' type. They teased and got in arguments constantly, but yet, they tolerated each other. Francis always had his mindless flirting, and Arthur always had his mindless insults. Francis was always affectionate, and Arthur always brushed him off.

This was a first.

Francis let out a small sigh and shook his head, rubbing the heartbroken Briton's back and frowning. Arthur leaned into the unfamiliar embrace and sniffled, trying his hardest not to break down and cry.

After a while, he pulled back and wiped his eyes before any real tears started to form, glaring at the ground and sighing.

"Arthur, why don't we go out for drinks sometime over the weekend, hm? Get your mind off of things? I'll bring Toni with us." Francis offered, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur nodded his head and sniffled again. "Y-Yeah.. I'd like that." Arthur gave him a wry, broken smile.

"Alright, Arthur. I'll call you.." And with that, Francis was off.

Arthur sighed and rolled his shoulders back, trying to regain his posture. He knew Francis meant well. After all, he was getting married this summer with the love of his life.

Arthur got into his car and drove home, ushering himself inside and locking his door. He sighed and walked into the kitchen. He was too upset to be hungry. But, he had been using that excuse for too long. He needed to eat something. He pulled out some things from the cupboards and set them on a plate, taking a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet and sitting down on the couch. He turned on the television and went to eating and drinking.

He sniffled and finished his plate, now left to a half-drunken bottle of wine. He wiped his eyes, finally realizing that he had been crying the entire time. Most of the time he would just break down without noticing it. His mind would wander to Alfred, and he would loose it.

Arthur fell asleep with an empty bottle and on the couch that night. There wasn't a 'good-night kiss' or arms wrapped around him.

He was alone. He was grieving.

And he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

* * *

**Ah, here.**

**A longer chapter.**

**I figured it would be better if we added some new characters in this.**

**'Make it so Arthur isn't so lonely. (/);; n ;;)/)**

**I've been meaning to get these chapters posted earlier, knowing that I'd probably procrastinate and forget about it some time-**

**Anyways, next chapter will have Alfred in it~ **

**Have a wonderful day/evening.**

**Keep dreaming~**

**-Love**


End file.
